


Little Sister Sees All (And It's Making Her Nauseous)

by Krissielee



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krissielee/pseuds/Krissielee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, five times Harry and Eggsy were idiots and one time Daisy told them to shut the fuck up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Sister Sees All (And It's Making Her Nauseous)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThankfulForHartwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThankfulForHartwin/gifts).



> So many people to thank for this—obviously [thankfulforhartwin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThankfulForHartwin/), for whom this fic was written and for doing this whole exchange thing overall. And then, for listening to me lament this thing CONSTANTLY, [knuckleblister](http://archiveofourown.org/users/knuckleblister) (who also provided the beta and the summary), and [cinderella81](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81), and [elletromil ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil)(who also lent her French prowess because I am great at reading it but not so much at actually doing anything else with it), and [lunarnightshade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarnightshade) (who titled this thing), and bulletproof_gentleman for helping me make it work, and everyone else in the group that somehow didn’t murder me for never shutting up, and further proving that Kingsman fandom is amazing. I swear it was like pulling teeth, but damn it, here it is, and I hope you like it! <3

“Okay, sweetheart, now bend your knee a bit,” Harry instructed, kneeling in front of Daisy to help correct her stance. She’d taken to Karate like a duck to water, and Harry had made it his personal goal to teach her as many martial arts forms as possible. She’d picked up the basics of Judo and Aikido by 5, and now at 7, she was taking Capoeira, though Harry was sure her brother had put her up to that one, just so Harry could look the fool as he taught her the ginga, waving his arms about and all. That blasted [pandeiro](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.pandeiro.com/pages/videos&sa=D&ust=1448038391858000&usg=AFQjCNE602pZG7HV8MSNqItffYCx2NcLQw) didn’t help matters, either.

Today, though, he was teaching her Kendo, and she was finally being challenged, Harry thought. Of course, the shinai was about the same size as the young girl, which may have been the reason it was giving her a hard time.

“You could jus’ teach ‘er fencin’,” Eggsy pointed out, leaning against the garden wall where they were practising, arms crossed a bit too stiffly for someone merely worried about his sister’s safety, Harry thought. “Ain’t no swords there bigger’n me flower.”

“After this,” Harry promised, attention already back on Daisy as he showed her how to swing the sword, reminding her to go easy on her big brother when she decided enough was enough of him teasing her—or teasing Harry.

Daisy’s laughter was worth the string of curses Eggsy let out at that.

\--

Eggsy loved watching Harry work with Daisy. She was so brilliant and talented, and Harry was giving her everything he neither Eggsy nor his mother could give her.

So what if Eggsy wished Harry would be correcting _his_ stance, pressed close behind him? He was lucky enough to have a great job alongside the man! 

Besides, Daisy was happy, and she finally had a father figure in her life like she deserved, one who doted on her and brought her sweets from his trips and taught her how to defend herself. God willing, she’d never need to know any of it, especially now they were out of the estate. But just in case.

And Harry was a sight when he taught her—he looked so _proud_ , in a way Eggsy had never seen directed toward himself. Like Harry thought the world of Daisy, and that he’d give it all to her.

The best, though, was when he’d mentioned capoeira to his sister and he got to watch Harry dance-fight for months. Harry would _never_ have done that for him. If he couldn’t have the man touching him, he’d fantasise over the man’s hips moving like that.

\----

At the knock on the door, Eggsy wiped his hands on the dishtowel. “You jus’ keep stirrin’, babe. I’ll be back in a sec,” he told Daisy, who nodded as she worked on the pancake batter, determined to get out all the lumps. Eggsy was no great cook, but he was slowly teaching his sister what little he knew, in the hopes that she’d grow up with a better diet than he’d had.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Harry there. “You’re early, ain’t you?” he asked, stepping aside so the man could come into the flat. Eggsy had moved the family into a much nicer one once he had started at Kingsman; this one was a proper home, much nearer to both the shop—and Harry’s, though Eggsy would swear to his dying breath the latter was a coincidence. “We’re jus’ makin’ pancakes, if you wanted to join us.”

Harry smiled softly, following Eggsy back into the kitchen. Daisy beamed. “Harry! You’re early! You’re _never_ early!” she said, waiting impatiently for Eggsy to take the bowl back so she could go hug Harry, paying no mind to the flour down the front of her apron now sprinkled across Harry’s suit.

“So I am,” Harry replied, leaning casually against the counter as Daisy hurried back to help Eggsy sprinkle the chocolate chips into the batter.

Eggsy patiently helped Daisy pour the batter into the pan, explaining how to let them cook before flipping them, very conscious of Harry’s eyes on them. The first few pancakes that Daisy helped flip were more than a bit messy, but they’d taste good enough, and he praised her endlessly for doing that well.

There was enough batter to make a stack for Harry, too, before he whisked Daisy off for her riding lessons. The bastard had paid for a year of lessons as a Christmas gift —after checking with Michelle, of course, because Eggsy had no doubt his mother would have been hard-pressed to even tolerate Harry had he surprised them with such an extravagant gift—and Daisy was in love with her horse at the stable. 

But there was time enough to dwell on his sister’s good fortune to be raised around someone like Harry later; right now, he needed to make sure Daisy was actually paying attention to the pancakes and not trying to catch Harry’s attention. Holding her in place was helping _her_ , but Eggsy couldn’t honestly say he didn’t want to get Harry’s attention, too, maybe make him cook breakfast next time. The man was a master at eggs Benedict.

Eggsy was inordinately proud of his sister as Daisy carefully placed the plate in front of him, remembering when Harry had tried to teach _him_ how to eat properly—and syrup-drenched stacks of pancakes and dustings of powdered sugar on every surface would never have made the cut, he just knew it. But Harry praised Daisy as soon as he’d had his first bite, and Eggsy wanted to kiss him for being so generous.

Wanted to kiss him anyway, actually. Thank fuck Daisy was there to keep his stupid crush in check. Harry would probably poison him if he’d actually tried to go for it.

\--

Harry hadn’t planned on being so early to pick Daisy up; he’d just woken up especially early and had no paperwork to finish up—or so he told himself. Seeing Eggsy in an apron, flour on his nose had been an extra treat. Eggsy was able to be himself with his sister in a way he never was with Harry or anyone at the agency, not even Roxy.

Harry fervently wished he was the one Eggsy was teaching to mix batter, his warm hands gently wrapped around Harry’s and his soft voice talking him through it. Sure, Harry was the better cook of the two of them, but he’d make a concerted effort to screw up if it meant being close to Eggsy.

The younger man was a natural, too: he was patient even when Daisy dropped the cup of sugar across the floor and JB went mad trying to lick it all up. Harry had stepped in to get the dog out of the way, and Eggsy had graced him with a blinding smile, laughing as he and Daisy scrambled for wet towels to wipe up the worst of the mess.

When he was invited to sit down for a plate of slightly misshapen pancakes, Harry would have sworn he felt Eggsy’s foot brush against his leg.

He was probably imagining it. Eggsy was too young to have any interest in an old man.

\----

“Can we watch a movie, Eggsy?” Daisy asked, wide eyed and pleading. “An’ Harry, too?” Harry had, after all, just dropped her off after a lesson in Russian—Eggsy was shit at languages (he’d offended the PM of Madagascar by accidentally turning “My pleasure” into “You’re a bloody menace,” for one thing), but at least his sister was wicked smart, and Harry was going to do everything he could to nurture that: he’d gotten Daisy into every activity that she wanted, and she soaked up everything Harry taught her.

“Well, we can, but you gotta ask Harry if he wants to stay,” Eggsy said, lifting Daisy up for hugs and kisses. She squirmed in his grasp, clinging to his shirt as she twisted around to face Harry, still standing in the doorway, a wistful smile on his face.

“Please, Harry? Mummy’ll let you stay for dinner!” Daisy said, and Harry chuckled. 

“You ought to ask her if that’s all right first,” he told the girl, but stepped further into the house, closing the door behind him. “But I can promise you a movie, at least, sweetheart.”

“Careful, Harry, or I might think you’s plannin’ to kidnap me girl,” Eggsy teased, and Daisy laughed, cuddling against Eggsy.

“Harry wouldn’t!” she gasped, sounding properly scandalised, and Eggsy carried her to the living room, stepping over toys meant for both Daisy and JB to deposit her on the couch. Harry followed along, letting Eggsy take care of finding an appropriate film. He smiled a little wistfully at the way Daisy climbed into her brother’s lap, settling in for the movie.

Harry’d never had much by way of a family. He was an only child, born to two only children, and his grandparents were long gone. But seeing Eggsy and Daisy curled up together, laughing and smiling at the movie … Harry wished fervently he had that himself: someone to be so open with. Daisy loved him and Harry cherished the hugs and kisses, but this was a different level. She and her brother were incredibly close, in a way Harry would never be.

Besides, he wasn’t so sure he didn’t want to be in Daisy’s place, tucked against Eggsy, holding the boy as though he’d never let go.

Unfortunately, there was no chance of that happening. Eggsy was a beautiful young man, smart and outgoing, and he deserved someone who was all of that and more.

Harry smiled slightly, turning his attention back to the movie, squeezing Daisy’s hand when she tugged him closer.

If he couldn’t love the elder Unwin child as he wanted, he’d give it all to the younger.

\--

Daisy sat cuddled in Eggsy’s arms, watching the cartoon with bright eyes. Eggsy loved it; his sister really had flourished and come to delight in being affectionate with him. Harry was close, though, too close for Eggsy’s comfort—he could have reached out to touch the man, run a hand through that perfectly coiffed hair, brushed his fingers along the collar of his perfectly pressed shirt, taken hold of those perfect fingers and lifted them to his lips.

It was hard to maintain a platonic relationship with his mentor, seeing how taken Daisy was with him, how taken he was with her in return. Fuck, Eggsy loved seeing this domestic side of Harry, when he was relaxed, body not so tense as when he was wearing the mantle of Arthur at HQ. The man wasn’t even wearing a full suit, for fuck’s sake! He looked like a man with no worries but that his loved ones were happy, too.

And speaking of worries, surely Harry was too busy to spend time watching _My Fair Lady_ with a girl still in primary and her big brother, even if he was also Harry’s co-worker, or protégé, or whatever label Harry wanted to give it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the label Eggsy wanted: boyfriend, or maybe partner. 

Eggsy would just try to content himself with what he could have: simple, non-romantic friendship.

\----

“All right, D, now jump!” The girl laughed as she did what her brother ordered, jumping from one low concrete wall to another. Eggsy grinned as she kept going, hopping along the walls and hoisting herself onto railings—he stuck close, not wanting to see her fall.

“What’s this, then?”

Daisy turned, hopping down from the pillar she’d been trying to scale and racing over for a hug. “Harry! Eggsy’s teaching me parker!”

“Parkour, babe,” Eggsy corrected, stopping a few feet back from the man, maybe feeling a little embarrassed. “What’re you doin’ out, anyway? Ain’t you supposed to be at the shop?”

Harry smiled. “Taking a little lunch break,” he said, “and Merlin told me he’d tracked you here.” Eggsy rolled his eyes—not that he didn’t appreciate Merlin’s tech keeping tabs on him and his family, but he was fairly certain this wasn’t an appropriate use. Maybe Harry, as the big boss, had pulled rank.

“You really is tryin’ to kidnap D,” Eggsy teased, noticing that neither Harry nor Daisy denied it as the girl ran back to the playground, jumping on benches, swinging herself on trees and hopping down slides. 

“I’ve no intention of kidnapping her,” Harry said, smiling slightly. “After all, you and your mother don’t mind when I take her for the day.”

“Nah, she loves you,” Eggsy said, watching Daisy, careful not to look at Harry. Even though he’d been with Kingsman for years, he still had trouble keeping emotion out of his eyes around the people he felt comfortable around—and that list had grown quite a bit as he’d come to trust the other agents, learned that not everyone was out to hurt him or use him. He was determined that Daisy wouldn’t grow up that way, and so far they’d all been successful there. If he looked at Harry, Harry would see that Daisy wasn’t the only one that loved him. “We’d regret not lettin’ her see you, not when you’s so nice to her. Nobody else was gonna teach her about all the thin’s you know. I know fuck-all about bein’ proper an’ all.”

“Eggsy! Do a flip!” Daisy yelled, running up to the side of a building and kicking herself off, giggling when she fell over. Eggsy winked at Harry and took off running, kicking off the wall and flipping right over. Daisy cheered, demanding to be taught. 

Harry was largely forgotten as Eggsy helped his sister, but he fancied he could feel the other man’s eyes on him as he showed her what to do.

\--

Harry hadn’t lied about making an escape for lunch; he’d been in meetings all morning and when Merlin had mentioned Eggsy was in the park, he thought it would be a nice distraction from listening to the head of the Brazilian branch of Kingsman prattle on about the inefficiency of bulletproof suits in a tropical climate and couldn’t they work on bulletproof linen?

No. No, they couldn’t; the fabric wasn’t made for that sort of abuse. There was a pounding headache in Harry’s temple after the meeting, right where Valentine had shot him.

It disappeared in moments, watching Eggsy help Daisy, listening to her bright voice as he lifted her higher, helped her leap across the path. Harry was pleased to see the boy getting some use out of the gymnastics lessons of his youth, and waited until Daisy was trying it on her own before joining them. It was amazing how just a few moments of speaking with Eggsy, of seeing him and his sister happy, could turn Harry’s day right around.

Then when he _winked_ , Harry had to forcibly restrain himself from grabbing Eggsy’s hand and keeping him there, making good on that teasing promise. Eggsy was a flirt. A talented flirt, sure, and it was hell on Harry’s self-control.

\----

“What’s that one, Harry?”

Harry smiled, kneeling down to Daisy’s level to see where she was pointing. “That’s an _Atrophaneura kotzebuea_ , more commonly referred to as the [Velvet Rose](https://cambridgebutterfly.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=159),” he explained, hand out so she could watch him point out the red spots on the underside of its wings. “The topsides of their wings are black. Other butterflies mimic that to keep from being eaten,” he went on.

Daisy nodded, lifting the camera Eggsy had bought her for her 7th birthday, taking a picture of it. “It’s pretty,” she said. “Is that how come you’ve got them dead on your walls?”

Eggsy snorted from where he was leaning on the rail behind them, letting Daisy have her time with Harry. Harry ignored him. “Those are specimens,” he explained. “I collect them because yes, they are very pretty, but I also enjoy the thrill of searching for the perfect specimen. When I was younger—probably about your age, Daisy—my father took me camping, and we spent days catching butterflies and moths, and he showed me how to pin them so they would keep for centuries.” It was a nice memory; Harry had always been close to his father and that first trip had spawned dozens over the next decade, before Harry had gone to university and his free time had been severely limited.

“Maybe you an’ me could catch butterflies!” the girl said, then pointed at another butterfly drifting by, this one with iridescent blue spots on its wings.

Harry’s lip twitched. “That’s a Great Eggs--Eggfly.”

Daisy’s bright laughter mixed with Eggsy’s deeper chuckle, and even Harry joined in, slightly embarrassed by his slip. He’d been doing so well keeping his infatuation hidden!

\--

Harry was so good with Daisy, Eggsy decided. So patient. So gentle. Knowing what those hands could do, how ruthless he could be, Eggsy thought he ought to be more surprised at how easily he took to mentoring his baby sister.

He’d not gotten impatient once, not while he explained each butterfly to Daisy, giving the names in English and Latin, teaching her how to spot swallowtails and skippers. And then Harry had offered to take Daisy and Eggsy out to catch their own butterflies, as if he didn’t have better things to do, things he’d probably rather do than take care of an overenthusiastic seven-year-old.

And then, at the gift shop, Harry bought Daisy her first specimen, the Eggfly, perfectly preserved and nestled in its shadowbox. He’d offered Eggsy one, too, and Eggsy immediately picked out a [Baron butterfly](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yzw2AzY2du4/Sw_ga6BXCbI/AAAAAAAADyE/vkDZfnMxkrs/s1600/bcmk3-horsfield%27s-baron-ovi.jpg), hoping Harry didn’t realise how similar the brown of its wings was to his own eyes.

\----

Eggsy had been waiting for this for weeks. Harry had promised to teach Daisy some better table manners—Eggsy’s, of course, we still woefully lacking—but between missions and the upcoming holidays, nothing had panned out properly before.

Harry had even promised to whip up a fancy dinner, half a dozen forks and all. Honestly, Eggsy was just happy to see Daisy so excited, clutching his hand the entire trip to Harry’s place, talking about how Harry had promised to make escargot for her, and while the thought alone made Eggsy gag, he’d pretend for her sake.

But when Daisy knocked on Harry’s door and the man opened it, it was clear he’d gone all out. He’d told them to dress nicely, and he certainly fit the bill. Eggsy would bet money that he was in a new suit, a pale plaid worked through the dark brown wool highlighting the hints of grey in Harry’s hair and making it all the more irresistible to Eggsy. Harry, for his part, was watching Eggsy with appreciation as well; Eggsy was in a subtle pinstripe that flattered his figure and sadly left both too much and too little to the imagination.

“You’re just on time,” Harry said, hugging Daisy as he let the two of them in. “Come, now, we’ve a lot to cover tonight.”

Daisy silently agreed. She had a plan of her own to execute.

The table was set; everything was in perfect position and the first thing Harry did was teach Daisy what each utensil was and how to tell the difference. Once Daisy had it down, she let Harry hold her seat for her, across from Eggsy and Harry at the head of the table.

Everything was going well through the appetizer--Eggsy forced the escargot down, though he drank rather a lot of wine to get the taste out of his mouth while Harry kept refilling his glass, and Eggsy was too busy trying not to looked pained to see the fond looks Harry was shooting him (but Daisy couldn’t miss them, not when they were right there)--and soup courses, Harry patient as Daisy asked him questions about everything he’d made, praising him nearly as much as he praised her manners. Eggsy knew he was smiling stupidly at Harry, but thankfully the man was too busy with Daisy to notice. He couldn’t help it—Harry had easily fit himself into the Unwin family’s life, and Eggsy was allowed to dream of a day when it was more than a symbolic tie.

Harry cleared away the soup bowls, bringing out the sole meunière. Daisy picked up the fish knife, then set it back down, looking pointedly at Harry. It was time for her to do something about the last few _years_ of the two men longing for each other like the characters in her mum’s soaps.

"Harry, embrasse-le tout simplement! C'est ce que vous voulez tous les deux, et je n'en peux plus de vous voir vous tourner autour!" she said, then excused herself to the kitchen as Harry spluttered, floored by the fact that a child had been able to read him so easily when nobody else ever had. And if she’d read _him_ so well … she’d said they _both_ wanted it.

Eggsy glanced at Harry, confused. “What, she doesn’t like the food?” he asked. 

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said, reaching out to touch Eggsy’s hand, noting the slight hitch in Eggsy’s breathing. Daisy was very perceptive, and Harry was going to make sure she knew he appreciated it. Later. Much, much later. “May I kiss you, Eggsy?” 

The wine stains were never coming out of the tablecloth, but Harry decided it was worth it when Eggsy practically launched himself into Harry’s lap for that kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> What Daisy says, translated by the gorgeously perfect Elle: “Harry, just kiss him. Both of you want to, and I’m tired of you two dancing around each other!”


End file.
